


Two Can Keep A Secret If One Of Them Is Dead

by Writegirl



Series: Fucked Up Love Songs [2]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, F/M, Natasha Doesn't Care, Nick Fury Is A Creeper, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Spy Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writegirl/pseuds/Writegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson was a man of habits. When those habits are disturbed Fury becomes... curious.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Phil was a man of routine: bed by ten, up at five, breakfast between five thirty and six. Showered, shaved, and dressed by seven. In the office by seven forty five and ready for the day. If it was at all possible, baring international incident or field work, those were his hours and he stuck to them. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Can Keep A Secret If One Of Them Is Dead

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Shem, who wanted to see more Darcy/Phil. Not so much in this part, but definitely in the next installment.

        Fury didn’t like puzzles.  
        That wasn’t entirely true. Some puzzles were a challenge, an invitation. Pulling apart the plans of the enemy, figuring out the angles and byways was what he did, and he did it very well. A spy who wanted everything to be laid out for him in a neat grid pattern never stayed one for long. What he didn’t like were puzzles that appeared where none existed before.  
        Coulson hadn’t puzzled him for years, not since the first months after his recruitment where he was still feeling the other man out. Agent Coulson had since become his confidant, a left hand where Maria served as his right. If it needed doing, if it was important, Phil could get it done with a minimum of problems and a calm that alternately terrified and awed those who didn’t know him well. Twenty years of working side by side gave them a balance that was hard to find in their business, a balance he hoarded zealously.  
        Which was why, when it started, Fury noticed immediately.  
        Phil was a man of routine: bed by ten, up at five, breakfast between five thirty and six. Showered, shaved, and dressed by seven. In the office by seven forty five and ready for the day. If it was at all possible, baring international incident or field work, those were his hours and he stuck to them.  
        When he first walked in at eight, slightly frazzled (a tightness around his eyes, his suit less than perfectly pressed), Fury let it slide. Everyone had an off day, and once in ten years was a hell of a track record. When it happened again less than a week later, it stuck in the back of his mind.  
        Then came the smiles.  
        Agent Coulson was a man of few words and fewer displays of emotion on the job. Outside SHIELD hours in the few times work wasn’t burying them he’d shown a sense of humor that was the match of Fury’s own: sarcastic, biting, and more than a little mean when the situation called for it. At work he was unflappable, even in the face of what was dubbed the ‘Furby-ing of ’03. He’d gone to his office, shaved, and returned to command relaying orders and taking control before the techs had finished shitting their pants about the fact that everyone in Facility C had all sprung multicolored fur.  
        When he smiled during a meeting after glancing at his phone Nick almost stopped talking. The gunmetal grey walls of SHIELD headquarters wasn’t the place for the softer side of Philip Coulson. No one else seemed to catch the slip, and his expression schooled itself into calm control seconds later. Fury managed to finish the meeting without giving himself away but caught up to Phil before he could vanish.  
        “Good intel?”  
        “Sir?” Phil stopped gathering his files.  
        “The call,” Fury pressed.  
        Coulson’s eyes brightened, the lines around them deepening only slightly, and that was a far more appropriate display of happiness from the other man when he was on the clock. “Something panned out better than expected.”  
        When Coulson left Fury tapped his fingers on the table, eyes focused inwards.

* * *

        “Coulson wants to head Project Pegasus?”  
        “He feels that he would be a more valuable asset on the ground that Hodgens.”  
        “Agent Coulson hasn’t requested a solid assignment in almost five years.”  
        Maria stepped forward. “Given his expertise, experience with extraterrestrial objects, and previous association with Dr. Selvig and the incident I have to agree with his assessment, sir.”  
        Fury leaned back in his chair. His office in New York was Spartan, but it always felt like too much to him. Even stripped of everything but a desk, computer, and chairs it still felt…wrong. He preferred the small, almost claustrophobic confines aboard the Hellicarrier. When Hill brought the transfer papers to his attention he was contemplating loaning half of it out to Angelica. His secretary was constantly complaining about having to run to Hell and gone to find her files. “Hill, have you noticed anything different about Agent Coulson over the past few weeks?” He said it nonchalantly.  
        Maria's eyes sharpened on him. “Sir?”  
        “Since New Mexico I’ve noticed a change in him.”  
        She shifted her feet. “Coulson doesn’t change.”  
        “Exactly.” Fury stood. “Something is going on.”  
        Maria Hill was a rock; it was the thing that first caught his attention when she was brought in after an assignment gone sideways. Nothing shook her, not even the gaping wound in her shoulder from the quarter-inch wide rebar that had pierced it. “Sir, I can deny his request and-“  
        “No.” Whatever was happening, New Mexico might be the key. “Let it go through. Maybe some time living out of an apartment instead of a suitcase will give him some perspective.”  
        “Yes, sir.” She spun and walked out of his office. He hung his head after the door closed and paged his secretary. “Angelica, I need to see Barton in my office, as soon as possible.”

* * *

        Clint was not shocked (nothing Fury would request him to do would really shock him), but close enough to it. “You want me to spy on Phil?”  
        “I want you to keep a close eye on all personnel attached to Project Pegasus,” Fury clarified. “That includes Agent Coulson.”  
        “But specifically, you want me to spy on Phil.” He could feel a muscle at his temple tick.  
        When Fury didn’t answer Clint fought the urge to curse. He should have known when he got the call from Angelica that something was up, something that would piss away the good day he’d been having. He had just managed to get the tawny New Mexico dust out of everything, and now he was going back. “Am I allowed to ask why you feel the need?”  
        Fury scowled. “Just keep an eye on him, Agent Barton. This is between the two of us.”  
        “Permission to speak freely, sir?”  
        Fury’s expression said fuck no, but he relented. “Given.”  
        “Is this because of the cafeteria incident? Because if it is I swear I wasn’t the only one involved-“  
        “Agent Barton, other…incidents… aside, you’re getting this detail because I trust your judgment, because you know the area from your previous assignment, and because of your previous association with Agent Coulson.” He flipped open a file, his way of letting you know that the conversation was finished. “From what I understand you have some packing to do.”  
        _Well, fuck you very much, Boss._ “Yes, sir.”  
        Clint closed the door behind him. Natasha was going to lose her shit when he told her about this.  
        “Bullshit,” was the first word she had to say on the subject.  
        “Wish it was,” he countered, propping his feet on her desk as she dressed behind him. “He ordered me to pay specific attention to his comings and goings, contacts, everything.” He flipped one of his knives at the target on her wall. “Phil’s doing something that has Fury spooked.”  
        “Fury doesn’t spook.”  
        “My point, so what’s going on?” He dropped his feet to the floor. “You know how much I hate it when Mommy and Daddy fight.”  
        “And you know how much I hate that image floating in my head.” She turned around. “Zip me up?”  
        Clint turned to her. “You’re not wearing black.” He noted as he zipped her.  
        “No.” She adjusted one of her sleeves.  
        “You’re wearing color.”  
        “Yes.”  
        “You’re going on a date? A date date? Now? Our world is ending!”  
        Natasha reached over him and grabbed her clutch and phone just as it started vibrating. “Fury is being paranoid, as usual. Now, you’ve got sunscreen to pack, and I have a car waiting.”  
        Clint pouted. “I still hate the haircut.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Like I said, more Darcy/Phil in the next installment. I wanted Phil to treat their relationship as something he feels he needs to keep to himself at this point, for reasons that will be explained in the next fic. But yeah, I can so see Fury creeping on his people when he feels something isn't right. Strictly for national security reasons, of course.


End file.
